


Retaliate

by tinycrown



Series: Headcanons [3]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Major Illness, Sick!Carl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-25 00:28:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10752924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinycrown/pseuds/tinycrown
Summary: It's not Glenn that gets sick. It's Carl.





	Retaliate

He feels dizzy, cold sweat making him feel so  _ warm _ . It’s suffocating. Carl stands up straight, trying to swallow down the coughs that make their way up his throat. He stumbles, latching onto the pole as he quickly makes his way out of Cell Block A, where Judy sleeps. He can’t get her sick. He can’t cough into the air in there. She’s vulnerable. She matters more.

_ Keep Judy alive, safe, and healthy _ . 

Carl makes his way down to the quarantine zone and struggles to push the door open. He can’t do it, he’s too weak. He falls against the door and coughs until his lungs are scratchy. His legs are like jello, his insides feel like they’re melting. He coughs more, until blood spurts onto the tar. Carl shivers and curls up against the door, clawing at the handle desperately. He needs to get out of the open, away from the healthy people. He can’t get them sick. 

“Carl?” His father’s scratchy voice is distant and he cringes, trying to hold back but he can’t. The stains against the pavement are demonetizing. “Carl!” Echoed footsteps are coming toward him and it’s more than one person.  _ Glenn?  _

“No-nono ss’tay ‘way!” He finally pushes the door open and wrenches it shut, ignoring the bangs against the door and his father yelling his name. He limps forward and opens the metal door. “Dr. S?” He calls weakly. 

Sasha eyes him and he looks away. “He’s sick, too. It’s happenin’.” She says, Carl stumbling to lean against her cell door. “Where’s Hersh’l?” 

“He’s handin’ out that tea stuff.” She breaths, coughing harshly into a rag. “He’ll give you somethin’ to catch the blood with when he comes by.” Carl nods and makes his way toward an empty cell. The sheets of the bunk were clean, and he closes the cell door, gripping the bars for a minute. He rests his forehead against the cool metal. 

  
  


Hershel carries the tray gently, making his way toward the cells that he hadn’t touched. “Hershel-” Sasha calls, coughing. “We got a new one. Carl.”  
“Carl?” He asks incredulously. “Dammit.” He goes searching, finding the last cell at the block and seeing the boy curled up on the bed. He’s discarded is flannel, left only in a t-shirt. He’s shivering madly and there’s blood crusted around his mouth and dried on the bed next to him. Hershel’s eyes soften and he opens the door. Carl jolts up and looks at him, and relaxes instantly. “Get out of here. Y’ll get ss’ick too.” He mumbles and curls up even tighter. He coughs, blood surging from the back of his throat onto the cement. Hershel sets down the tray and hands him a rag, setting the cup of tea down onto the top bunk. 

“Cough into this, make sure you stay elevated so if  _ it _ happens you won’t choke.” Hershel says, grabbing the tin cup. “Daryl’s group will be back soon, don’t you worry, now.” 

  
  


Three days into the sickness is when Rick comes in to visit. Carl gets up immediately and closes the door, preventing him from coming in. “Carl.” He scolds, voice muffled through the rag. “Dad, you can’t come in here.” He practically pleads, as if he has no choice. “Y’need to look out for Judy.” He says, hands gripping the bars until they’re white. Rick puts his hands over his sons and squeezes. “Please, Carl. Let me in.” 

The teen sighs, opening the cell door and Rick barrels in, engulfing him in a warm hug. “I am so sorry for this, son. You’ll be fine.”

“Daryl’s back.” Hershel’s voice speaks up from the echoing silence. Rick butts his forehead against Carl’s gently, and lays him down. “We’ll start with Sasha, and then Carl, and we’ll do the rest.” Hershel says and Rick nods, thankful. Carl rests his head against Rick’s shoulder and grabs his injured hand, running the bandages over gently with his small fingers. “You’re gonna be okay, baby boy.” Rick says, hugging him tight. 

  
  


They distribute the medicine, Carl and Sasha survive and a few others. They’re out taking it easy for at least a week. 

Carl stays away from Cell Block A during that week, sleeping in the watchtower near the west side of the prison. His father thinks he’s been sleeping in the cell block but he doesn’t trust himself. Him breathing in the same block as Judy is risking in itself. 

“Carl?”

“Carl! I know you’re up there.” 

The boy sighs, pulling on his jeans as he yawns. Sliding down the ladder, he finished buckling his holster and pulls up his long sleeves. “What’s up?”  
“You haven’t been sleeping in your cell block for the past week.” 

Carl sighs. “I know, dad.”

“Why?”

“Maybe next week I’ll start sleeping in there, but… for now. I gotta stay away from you guys.” 

“Carl-”

“ _ No _ , dad. This is my choice.” 

“Just listen, Carl. The outbreak is done.” 

“I know, dad. But I just want to keep her safe. She matters more than I do.”  
“Carl you both matter _equally_.” the teen scoffs. “No, dad. We aren’t. And you know that. We have to keep her safe. _I_ have to. I promised.”

“Promised who?”

“Mom.” 

 

Rick goes silent. He moves forward and hugs his son, kissing his hair, then his forehead. “I want you back in the block by mid next week, okay?” 

Carl smiles. “Okay.” 


End file.
